BAD TOUCH (v2)
by SailorSilvanesti
Summary: Re-write of the original story. The Justice League listens on in horror as the Teen Titans share a painful, life-altering secret they have kept secret all these years. A tale of fear, obsession and innocence lost; all due to the ceaseless fixation of one man. Deathstroke the Terminator. (Mature Content)


It has been rewritten.

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 **~*BAD TOUCH (v2.0)*~**

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Chapter 1: _**And Love To Break Their Hearts**_

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Ceramic shattered in all directions as the mug made contact with the table at speeds exceeding those it was originally designed for. The perfect metaphor for how the atmosphere in the room suddenly seemed so fragile, breaking and rending itself into jagged reality in a heartbeat.

It was honestly so horrifically poetic and melodramatic, that he just wanted to scream; cowled eyes watched the trajectory of each shard and fragment intensely. Trying to ignore how perfectly it seemed to summate what was happening within his chest; that hollow, broken feeling clawing up and choking the runner once more.

God, they thought they'd buried it in the past… that he'd never have to feel like this again.

They thought…

And all it had taken, was a careless utterance of that name.

That hateful name.

Every syllable mired in years of memory and emotion, happenings long-ago relegated to the furthest reaches of their subconsciouses. A name, a memory, a man… and everything related, that had been so safely tamped down…

Until now.

~)0(~

Wonder Woman's swift reaction managed to shield herself and the teammates directly to either side, with her gauntlets; silently thanking Hera that the vessel had not been filled with anything other than the lingering scent of over-sugared coffee.

"I-...I-...I'm sorry," Flash stuttered, eyes wide and shocked behind the red cowl at his reaction, as he focused back on the here and now once more. The slits narrowed again, expression growing antagonistic."But how the hell could you not have noticed something like that?"

It had been a joke, a minor jest that had spurred this sudden onset of anger and confusion into motion. A casual observance that, although every hero around the table had their own villains to deal with, there always seemed to be one the former sidekicks had to share amongst themselves; forever unvanquished and always arising to cause chaos when they least expected it.

His fingers curled into scarlet fists, body shaking.

No, not shaking; something far more agitated…he was vibrating, silently.

"What part of having a grown man utterly fixated on capturing a specific group of children, all dressed in spandex of all things, for years on end didn't set off your internal warning klaxons? Doesn't his continuous obsession scream 'something a little bit suspect is going in here and maybe we should kick his ass to protect them'?"

The speedster's tone was incredulous as his gaze swept across the sea of blank, surprised expressions the rest of the Justice League reflected back at him. Some puzzled, others growing more malevolent by the second as the thought, the idea… the implication, settled in.

Confused and trying to calm the roiling emotions of her youngest teammate, Wonder Woman half-rose and extended a comforting hand in his direction; only to settle within her seat again as the younger man deliberately placed himself out of reach, without giving the appearance of having moved. A sure sign that perhaps a tactile approach to support would not be welcomed at this very moment.

A frown marred her Amazonian features, not liking the idea that she would have to tease this situation out a little further to find the basis for such an outburst. However, as a trained diplomat, she took a deep breath and adopted an outwardly calm manner, ready to respond to the scenario as it presented itself. Eyes looking about the room, to discern the reactions of her comrades, and the younger heroes present in the cavernous meeting room of the Watchtower.

The other Titans had remained stoically silent from where they remained on the periphery of the room; eyes and energy seemingly directed towards Flash, who was their mouthpiece of the moment. A tangible web of something that defied labels or description, binding them all together; the League members could almost swear they felt the gentle pulsing of support towards the speedster, but each individually dismissed such a fanciful thought to focus on the situation and conversation, at hand.

Gently, Diana asks, "Flash, know that we hear you, but you must speak more plainly for I do not think we understand. What is it that you mean?"

Everything was quiet. So quiet, it ached.

Too quiet, for minds to remain at ease.

In this world without sound, Diana found herself… uncertain, and at odds with warring emotions. Part of the Amazonian was suddenly afraid of what may be said and expressed in the next few moments; and what it may mean. Another fraction was already furious and willing to tear the head off of this 'deathstoke' man... who may have dared cause her dear little sister, now the heroine Troia in her own right, a different kind of peril to that which the heroes are usually accustomed.

The very sibling whose starry night-speckled form melded into the dim shadows about the edges of the circular meeting table; closest to the door, as if seeking a swift route of escape, now Diana thought on the precarious placement more deeply. Her sister was on flanked on either side by the other original Titans, all grave and silent as tombstones. Their manner so statuesque, the general mood of the inhabitants was torn between an eerie cemetary-like stillness, and a heightened thrill of warning; as one might feel in the moments before lightning struck.

"You mean… you didn't know?" It was, indeed, Troia who spoke then. Powerful voice soft, questioning, and yet hurt in an oddly childlike manner that brought a deep-seated pain to her sister in a way neither would ever be able to explain if asked. Blue eyes betraying something akin to betrayal, that made no sense to those who beheld it.

Donna looked to the other members of the Titans before adding, "We thought…" in a confused tone; trailing off into uncertainty, as a dark-clad hand rested upon her shoulder in comfort. She petted it briefly, and avoided looking towards the League for a long moment; a sad smile creeping across her features, before fading into a blank mask.

Wonder Woman could feel the creak and groan of the metallic table beneath her deceptively strong hands, control leeching away as her heart began to thud painfully fast beneath the armour she wore. Concern and horror clashing within her mind and soul; something had happened here, to them… something terrible. What was it? When had it been? When had she failed to protect her sister, and the other children-of-heroes she could at least claim to have partially-raised?

What had marred them all so brutally that none dared speak of it, even after all this time?

Across the table the Martian Manhunter, J'onn J'onzz, beheld each of the Titans with those inscrutable red eyes; reading a variety of concerning non-verbalised cues and behaviours that he had picked up from his time among the planet's populace. It did not take a telepath to read what was not being said; and yet, he did not have all the information required to understand the situation that had lead to Flash's sudden outburst and the cessation of post-successful mission celebration so abruptly.

Attempting to be unobtrusive to the current scenario, J'onn inclined himself towards the teammate seated closest to make a quiet inquiry. "Superman, would you be able to enlighten me as to who it is that the young heroes are speaking of?"

In answer, the Kryptonian clenched his jaw almost imperceptibly, as if anticipating a blow, before replying, "A mercenary commonly known as Deathstroke the Terminator. Assassin, renegade, terrorist when the pay is good enough… he was never really on the Justice League's radar because he was always interested in small-time missions and conspiracies."

"And how'd that turn out for you?" Red Arrow backhands, making the Man of Steel flinch in surprise. "Slade Wilson, or Deathstroke if you haven't had the opportunity to get to know him up-close and personal, is the guy in the black and yellow mask who periodically turns up to blow something up or kill a leading dignitary whenever a country is close to establishing peace. Never backs down on a mission, and was willing to sacrifice all three of his kids in order to keep his integrity as a murderer-for-hire... so you can probably imagine our lives didn't mean much to a man like that, overall."

Roy's expression held all the contained fury of a caged tiger. "The first Ravager went crazy and died thanks to the poor bastard getting hyped up on his need for daddy's approval; and then Slade flat-out let some other assassin slit the throat of his other son -you know him as Jericho- because he refused to give up the name of the guy who hired him… and then, he kidnapped his daughter back from social services and pumped her full of enough crazy juice that she gouged out her own fucking eye while playing Ravager the Second. He's a GREAT guy once you get to know him. And, fun fact… he had one hell of a fixation on the Teen Titans; namely trying to get his hands on us at any cost. Is the name Deathstroke ringing any bells for you now, or should I keep going? It's a fascinating story that just keeps sliding down into the fiery inferno the longer you talk…"

The anger dripping off his barely-casual tone seemed to shock the more-adult members of the room.

Green Arrow cleared his throat to gain attention from the red-clad archer in the room. He was not at all unused to outbursts of emotion from his former mentee, but still attuned enough to know this was out of the ordinary for Roy to react so violently at the mention of a name. Not even factoring in the odd responses… or non-responses, he should say, from the other Titans in the room.

"Ro-... Red Arrow," he began, feeling very much like he'd volunteered to poke a sleeping bear just by opening his mouth, "I… I mean, we, know who Deathstroke is in the general sense; he was always relegated as a Teen Titan adversary, so thanks for the additional information it can certainly go into the Watchtower databanks. But, kid, I have to ask… where is this coming from? What does this have to do with…?"

Oliver cut himself off suddenly, the vaguely-confused frown he had been wearing slowly morphing into an expression of dawning horror as the gravity of the situation slowly trickled into something cohesive. The older archer's eyes snapped up to meet the younger's, as he initially demanded, "He didn't?!"

Roy twitched uncomfortably, and Green Arrow dropped his tone to something less demanding and glanced slightly over the other's shoulder so as not to appear quite so confrontational.

"Sorry, I mean… he didn't, y'know, did he? Ro-... Red Arrow?" he tried again.

The silence following the statement dragged on for an uncomfortable moment; Oliver blinked to find himself half-standing out of his seat and leaning across the table in the direction of his former protege. Heart plummeting as he noted that none of the Titans, let alone his own former sidekick, would meet his gaze; palms growing sweaty inside his gloves at the implications whirring in his mind. It felt almost as if the entire room had dropped several degrees in the space of a breath.

It was the most diplomatic of them, who broke the silence.

Wonder Woman slammed her fist upon the tabletop, concaving the metal to a perfect imprint of her barely-contained rage.

"Enough talk, we must find and then kill this 'Deathstroke' character…" she determines, eyes ablaze with righteous fury, silently daring any of her compatriots to dissent.

The other former-mentors seem to share this feeling, for all meet her gaze coolly; only Superman, Green Lantern and Martian Manhunter appear to feel oppositional to the plan. Diana almost wished one would say something, so she might give them a verbal thrashing to allay the emotions roiling within her breast; to give her an outlet for the anguish of realising she may have failed as a sister, and not realised it until now, when it was too late.

Her left hand automatically went for the shield that rested beside her seat at the Justice League table, and the right grasped the hilt of her sword; strapped to the back of the chair. Amazons may have believed you should never have weapons in hand while amongst friends; but it was imperative to keep them close by, in case of attack.

It was by the merest chance that her hands, and the actions they pursued, were stayed.

In a momentary glance up towards her sister, an unconscious action to determine Dona's wellbeing in this moment of revelation, she had seen another whom she had clearly failed to protect looking back.

Tempest stood stock-still besides Donna, who was staring away at some fascinating piece of shadowed wall absently, and looked back at the Themysciran Princess. His odd violet Atlantean eyes held an expression that could only be referred to as deer-in-headlights by Man's World; or on her own island, they would say it was First Battle Shock. When the body or mouth wishes to move, but the mind cannot overcome the fear blocking the action.

She had seen it so very, very many times; in her sisters of Themyscira, in teammates and heroes, and in the faces of civilians she had saved countless times. Experience had taught that calm responses were most suitable to providing aid to those lost in a dark moment; and so Diana paused. Hands releasing hilt and shield, deliberately relaxing her posture so she appeared relaxed and at ease; seeing that the Titans who looked her way subconsciously followed the example.

It was unclear if the other mentors or Justice League members had seen as she had, but they followed her lead instinctually; settling in their seats and projecting, if not the pinnacle of tranquility, then a vague perception of non-aggression. Each waiting to see where it was this situation lead, and what would be revealed.

None outside of herself, save perhaps Superman, realising that in the furor of seconds before, all shards of the ceramic coffee mug had been carefully collected and removed from the area. Then again, Flash always had a tendency to expel excess emotion through movement; busy hands helped quiet a racing mind, and all, as the speedster was known to say. She saw him on the periphery, still where he had been the last time she had looked; though slightly less agitated than previously.

Silence elongated for a moment more.

Diana's eyes remained on Tempest, who seemed frozen still; half-way betwixt speaking, and withholding something that was, at least to his own mind, of grave import. Of greater interest however, was the way the entire group of Titans' confused gazes often flickered to their unspoken leader, Nightwing; as if asking for something, or seeking reassurance.

Guidance, perhaps? Confirmation? Permission?

It was unclear, but apparently important to the former proteges.

Tempest blatantly looked towards the vigilante, head tilting just a fraction to communicate something that spoke volumes to the others. An inquiry was being made before the League's very eyes, and none present could decipher the subjecture with any certainty; save that they knew it had been answered, when Nightwing gave a gentle nod in acquiescence of the non-verbalised question.

Garth briefly appeared to touch the other hero's wrist, eyes inscrutable, and received a secondary nod. This, it could be assumed, was an encouragement; Wonder Woman mused, watching the interplay intrigued and slightly concerned.

She had worked with her current teammates for many years, and even now they still required some verbal cues in battle and common conversation.

To know her sister had such a strong bond with these younger heroes that what need usually be said could go unspoken, and still a message is imparted… was at once a cause for joy and alarm. They had learned to communicate without words; and it worried her for reasons she could not name. For although it may be a natural development, from growing up around one another, there were more sinister implications. That this practice was born of necessity; that something had silenced their ability to speak of certain things.

All she knew for certain was that something was amiss, and it had something to do with a man called Deathstroke. A fitting name, she mused as the Titans turned to face the Justice League as one, for if he had touched a hair on any of their heads… she would take up her sword and make it a prophetic one.

~)0(~

It had been such a long, long time since they had had to confront this part of their past.

Somehow not doing so became easier, over the years; as they each grew up and gained different roles and lives. Being busy meant that they did not have to deal with the afterimages, the nightmarish recollections and paranoia, the memories that became relegated to the dark corners of their minds.

And yet, here and now, something insignificant had sparked this emotional powderkeg into flickering life; and this time… there would be no tamping down of the flame, no returning the emotions to dormancy and pretending nothing happened. They had to tell the Justice League… their mentors, the older heroes who would understand, and hopefully see why they had acted in the way they did.

This tale had been waiting to be told for countless years, and perhaps now they were finally ready to speak it. The Teen Titans finally felt safe enough to share the secret they had harboured since childhood; and they could only hope that allowing the events to come to light, would free them in return.

~)0(~

"He was-… Slade, he-…" Tempest's gaze wavered over the left-hand shoulder of his King, as he breached the quiet of the room. Initially fumbling to find the right way to explain what they had lived, experienced, and buried deep to preserve their sanity. Troia moved so that her arm was flush with the Atlantean's, in a gesture of support; and he took a deep breath before trying again.

"Deathstroke was the main adversary of the Teen Titans for all of the time we remained together as a team, and even occasionally he reappears now to thwart us. He has hurt and broken us in many ways over the years. As you may know, Slade orchestrated Terra's betrayal of us, and killed many of the newer team members for various reasons, for as long as there have been Titans to fight back. Though all is not that simple, and began long before any of that even occurred." He sighed, expression heavy, as if the weight of the world pressed down upon him.

"When we were… younger, there were many times when he, when Slade would-…" Garth's confidence in the tale faltered. His fists clenched tightly a moment, and then unfurled before he could continue on. Aquaman had gone quite still in his seat, expression guarded and grave. "Deathstroke often did things that made little sense to us as children. Such as when we were captured, he would threaten to kill or hurt us as all villains do, but… he had this strange way of-… he liked to touch-... I mean-…"

The King of Atlantis was ever so quietly bending the armrests of his chair so violently that it appeared at least one might break off, as the near-parental fury coursed through his body at the very idea of what was being implied. He could not fathom the depravity; that someone could DARE to lay hands on a child in any manner such as being indirectly described.

Tempest visibly startled as the chair groaned audibly. "Oh. My Lord, I apologise for I have misspoken!"

His reassurances clashing with the sound of the Flash shouting, "Wait, he didn't mean it like that!" over his words. And then in the silence that followed, when the speedster paused to consider his wording; resulting in Wally adding ominously, "Well, not at first."

Wally pushed back the cowl of The Flash, rubbing a gloved hand through the shock of red hair atop his head; considering where to go from there, story-wise, considering he had jumped right in and interjected. To be fair, he could see Garth was struggling a bit, and this whole tell-the-superadults thing was his fault; but he could have been less abrasive about it, he supposed.

"Um, where to start?" Wally hummed, thinking how best to phrase what he had to say next. "Okay so, Slade kind of liked to touch us. And it first it was all casual, did-he/didn't-he sort of stuff that you kind of questioned later on once the adrenaline of the moment wore off. A stroke across the cheek coupled with an insult, forcibly tilting your head up to stare him in the eye as he revealed his cunning evil plan to you… you know, classic evil villain sort of stuff."

Barely restrained anger and frustration infused in every syllable, Wally continued. "It's just what Villains do when they catch Heroes, it's how they taunt, by making you do something you don't want to and proving they have all the power in the situation. That's what we told ourselves anyway. Always a rational explanation, right? But then, we didn't know. Couldn't know. We were just kids, damnit!"

Both fists were tightly clenched, body returning automatically to the earlier display of agitated vibrating on the spot; his rigidity mirrored in those who stood behind him, swathed in shadows. Save for one, who had remained calm enough to intervene; Bludhaven's protector moving almost imperceptibly through the dark room to catch the speedster's arm in a loose grip.

For the majority of the League, it was unclear what was whispered to the Flash, but it seemed to give Wally pause; for he took a deep breath and slowly ceased to move at speeds impossible for the naked eye to follow.

And then he was gone.

Superman, who had been unavoidably present to the whispered exchange, attempted not to give away the nature of it. The suggestion held significant merit, even if he would be forced to send someone (possibly Booster Gold, who was still on the League equivalent of time-out for the 'invisibility cloak' caper in the ladies' shower room last week), to clean the gym up afterwards. Cheating slightly, Clark used his x-ray vision to follow the path the speedster took through the Watchtower installation, noting the damage he wrought, and the nanosecond he began his return.

Culminating in the sudden reappearance of the younger man, visibly calmer, with only a small dusting of sand -presumably from the inside of a dozen punching bags- coating his red-clad fists to suggest he had ever been gone.

Definitely Booster Gold's problem, Superman decided.

"Okay, but seriously how did you NOT notice?" Red Arrow's accusatory tone lashed the League members present with a sense of foreboding and guilt. "I mean, come on. The signs were there! Every single Titan spent a good two hours scrubbing every inch of skin we could in the showers after Deathstroke snatched us in San Francisco when we were ten. Just trying to get the memory of his touch the hell off of us… didn't that strike you as a little odd?"

His glare, possibly fatal had the archer possessed heat vision, toned down at the immediate stiffening of every single one of the older heroes.

"Yeah no, it wasn't like that. Not that time. It was only the beginning back then, we weren't anything more than a vague passing distraction at that point. But I think even he knew that he wanted us in a more-than-villain way back then, given how he… handled us. The way he touched us made our skin crawl; at ten we knew something here wasn't the same as when we fought Mr Twister or H.I.V.E. because there was this look in his eye when he did it. Didn't know it then, not the words to explain it, but it was as if what was once a vendetta against us… was slowly becoming infatuation."

That seemed to be all he was willing to say for now. Stony silence allowing the reeling minds of their mentors and their teammates to try and grasp how best to approach the situation.

Green Arrow spoke first, addressing both the man before him and the sidekick he had been, in a comforting, yet strained, tone. "Roy… why didn't any of you tell us what was happening? I mean, I know I wasn't a very astute mentor when it came to… certain things…"

"The drugs, yeah." Roy grudgingly acknowledged.

"The… drugs," Oliver responded, looking pained at being reminded of how he had failed as a mentor. "But the point stands. Why didn't you, any of you, say something to us? If I'd-... if we'd known…"

He fumbled for the correct words to articulate his feelings, rising from his chair and moving towards Red Arrow; hoping for some sort of reaction to prove he wasn't too late to help. Although, when he took a step too close, Roy deftly sidestepped and maneuvered himself bodily behind Flash, Troia and Nightwing. Keeping physically distant from the out-stretched hand of his mentor; protecting himself from physical contact.

Green Arrow backed down immediately, respecting his former mentee's need for distance; though obviously saddened by this loss of trust. It would do no good to force Roy into confrontation; never did. He turned and took the few steps back to his seat, body and soul feeling oddly heavy and disjointed as he did so; mind frantically scrabbling back in time, scanning every memory and recollection of Roy he could locate, trying to find the missing moments and words. Trying to see where his sidekick had tried to tell him something was wrong, and he had not listened.

Flash's hesitant tone broke through that reverie. "If you'd have known about… it, we wouldn't have been allowed to remain Teen Titans anymore. We didn't want to be disbanded, because then none of us might ever have seen each other again; especially not Donna."

He gave a pointed look towards Diana, who seemed ready to protest, but let it fall unsaid; for everyone present knew she would gladly have hidden her little sister away on Themyscira the rest of her days if possible.

"B-besides, we learned… other ways of coping. There are different ways to deal with the likes of Slade that didn't require adult input; and anyway, it wasn't that bad to start with. We thought we could deal with him." Wally's tone indicated he was not actively certain what was, and was not, safe to expose; even after such a long time.

Glancing at his teammates on the League, he almost cringed at the looks of sympathy and horror being sent his way; there was nothing worse than being pitied by the people you admired most. Martian Manhunter's expression was, as always, unreadable; but Hawkgirl and Green Lantern looked like they were ready to kill a man on his behalf. He had no doubt as to their abilities to complete such a task; Shayera and John had fought many battles in the past and come out alive. Slade might very well be the deadest man walking the earth at this very moment.

On the other hand, maybe he shouldn't be revealing quite so much information to them all; after all, as Flash, he had to live with and work alongside all of them. It would be hard to maintain a heroic image if the others were throwing him pitying looks every five minutes.

Or worse, coddling him. Which he had no doubt at least one of them might.

After all, he and the other Titans had survived this long with the memories emblazoned on their mind by the brand of time; hadn't they?

In contrast to the others seated about the table, and in a disconcertingly dark mirror image to the air projected by his protege, only a singular member of the League remained steadfastly silent…

Of course, it was the Batman.

If there were words to describe the phenomena occurring, it would be to say that there was a dark aura of menacing intentions manifesting almost visibly about Gotham's Dark Knight; so palpable in the room that it actively made Superman and Hawkgirl edge away from the man in instinctual survival. He had not spoken; but it was clear where his thoughts lay.

Oppositionally, where the mentor's teammates shifted away for indescribable, instinct-based reasons; the Titans actively gravitated towards the protege, as if Nightwing could be considered an anchor, or safe point, in this moment of confusion and misguided shame at dredging up an ancient concern. He too did not speak, providing non-verbal cues and responses to his teammates, allaying their concerns and bolstering confidences with a touch alone.

Though even he seemed to flinch slightly as a low, gravelly voice asked a singular question of the younger heroes; tone simultaneously commanding an answer, and yet, somehow imbued with the feeling of… compassion. As if the man understood that they carried a painful burden, and sometimes the only way to release it… was to speak of it.

"What. Did. He. Do?" Batman asked of the Titans, expression utterly fixated on them, observing their body language in response to his words. They stilled, like prey creatures at the sudden scent of a predator on the wind; or perhaps, not… for they did not seem afraid, or in any hurry to provide response.

The Leaguers seemed… perplexed. One did not simply fail to answer a direct question from Gotham's Dark Knight, of all people; though, the man himself seemed utterly indifferent to the silence, as if it had been expected. The corner of his mouth imperceptibly ticking upwards, as Nightwing raised his hand in a very distinctive gesture, calling for silence from his team. Intrigued as the others, though hesitant, obeyed unquestioningly.

Bludhaven's protector sent a strange glance at Garth, who as yet remained close at hand to his unspoken leader and friend; and seemed to impart something, with a slight inclination of the head. Which brought a slight frown to Tempest's face, as if he was avidly searching his recollections for the appropriate verbal response.

"You ask what he did to us, those many years past… and indeed, it is a tale we will endeavour to tell, though it is hard to speak of. Instead, let me ask of you, members of the Justice League, what if we truly cannot say the words aloud… due, in part, to the deep-seated sense of shame we feel? The way our minds conjure the sensations…" Garth stated, stalling artfully, diplomatically, as his teammates adjusted to the situation at hand.

His deliberate verbal deception proved to be as eloquent, as it was inflammatory. The 'adults' in the room almost visibly simmering with the tension now miring the air; so thick it might almost take legendary Amazonian steel to slice through.

Batman did not respond outwardly for a long few seconds, waiting for the room to settle, before steepling his fingers and leaning towards the group; elbows resting on the table, and the slits of his cowl narrowing. His voice, when it came, was neither angry nor encouraging.

"As you are well-aware, Tempest, you did not manage to answer my question with a single word of your response." The World's Greatest Detective inclined his head fractionally in the direction of his own protege, focusing on the vigilante with a slightly less severe expression. "The Titans have our undivided attention at present, which cannot be guaranteed for much longer, given the propensity of the Earth towards disaster. Nightwing… Richard, explain the situation, now."

It seemed a little harsh, but those who knew the man behind the mask were fully aware that this brash command was a sign that Batman was losing his patented calm. Had the room not been more or less filled with Justice League members, Superman and Wonderwoman were certain that the Dark Knight would have tried a much more paternal tone and approach. It may have had better luck.

With a blatant glare of defiance, seemingly for the hell of it, Nightwing stayed silent in the face of his former mentor's command. Instead providing a small twitch of the hand closest to Troia, indicating something clearly significant to the Amazonian warrior, for Donna finally took her turn to speak instead.

"It all began innocuously, you must understand. That fateful kidnapping in San Francisco, when the Teen Titans had been formed only a few months; the whole operation had not even been about us, as you may recall. We were merely a means to an end. A way for Luthor and his little band of supervillain fiends to bring you, our mentors, to heel; by making us the sacrifice you would have to make, in order to foil their plans. Thus, they hired Deathstroke to steal us away when we least expected it…"

She paused, and uncharacteristically bit her bottom lip a little. Worrying the flesh ever-so-slightly, as if it helped her to think; Diana clearly wanted to tell her to cease the action before she hurt herself, but the gently restraining hand of Superman on the Princess's arm saw the Amazonian back down immediately.

The action, so insignificant, worried Wonder Woman. Donna used to do that as a child, but only if she was feeling scared, worried or unsure; it was her 'tell', one might say, that something was decidedly not right.

She hadn't done it in years… and yet, before Wonder Woman's very eyes, the nervous action reappeared. The pit of her stomach seemed suddenly to be wildly unsettled at the sight of such a small, unconscious action. Diana took a deep breath, and tried to remain calm; fingers itching to smack the hand down, wrap the younger in a hug and hold her until Donna finally told her older sister what was wrong. Which had always worked before.

Though she did not.

In her stead, Flash offered a tentative touch to Troia's forearm, which startled the once-goddess into realising what she was doing; and, mercifully, she ceased the actions immediately. Donna did not look at Diana, nor even in her general vicinity; seemingly afraid of what she might see. Knowing how her sister always reacted to such a silly habit.

To distract, she returned to the tale. "We were returning from a mission, triumphant and delighted, not paying attention whatsoever to the sonar or circuitry aboard the small shuttle the League provided us for such things. If we had been less… enthusiastic and elated, perhaps we would have heard the small ping of an approaching vessel over the music. As it was, we didn't; and were taken entirely by surprise when the entire shuttle screeched, rocking violently from side-to-side; not even Kid Fla-... Wally, had time to react when the emergency hatch was wrenched open and something tossed in. I can't… recall much of that. Just that there was pale purple gas, and things grew hazy, there was manhandling… and then suddenly we were bound and being presented to the League on a viewing screen as Deathstroke read out Luthor's demands."

Several Justice League members shifted uncomfortably at the memory. Their sidekicks had never looked so young, so tiny, as the moment they had been tauntingly dangled before them by the assassin. It had made them all re-evaluate whether it was a good idea to let them fight crime, much less remain as Titans.

"He kept us just dazed enough not to fathom the idea of freeing ourselves, but sharp enough to understand what was happening in a rather distorted way. And like Roy had said, it was when things changed for us, the dynamic shifted from hero and villain to… something else. The way he looked at us, watched us… it raised the hair on the backs of our necks, made us feel unclean even though nothing had happened. Even if we were too young to understand what that predatory gaze meant; even if Slade had not realised it himself, given how he often snapped out of such long moments of observing with a startled expression to his face." Donna exhaled, like she was trying to force the memory out physically.

"All we knew, all we could comprehend… was that something was seriously wrong and we wanted nothing more than for you to come and save us. Which you did, and for that we are eternally grateful… it's just that, even afterwards, there was no way to forget about what had happened, what we had seen." she continued, a slight touch of panic in her eyes quelled by the touch of support offered by another Titan. Donna nodded her thanks to them.

"We tried to tell ourselves maybe it was whatever he had used to incapacitate us, and perhaps we had just simply misinterpreted the whole scenario. He was our first real arch-nemesis, after all, perhaps we misread things? After many long, hushed conversations, we finally agreed to attribute the whole thing to his generalised villain-ness; which we also agreed was a very real word. Surely it was normal to be wary of him. But then, the game changed again, when he started getting bolder in his approaches to us." Her shudder seemed to ripple through the other Titans, and would not be comforted.

Her eyes flickered to them. "No one really noticed all that much, not at first. I mean, realistically, the man had always been tactile with us. It was his nature, I think. Slade had always touched us, while fighting; whether it was grabbing our arms to hurl us across the battlefield and into a teammate, or when he was kicking us hard enough to provide a boot-shaped bruise on your jaw for days to come. But then, things-… you know, I am sick of saying 'things changed', but it's… it's what happened!" Troia threw her hands up, apparently exasperated. "The way we fought changed, the manner in which he touched us changed, the way he looked at us changed… it all CHANGED."

The word rang out in the silence, though none dared interrupt or interject.

Donna drew in a calming breath, and set it free again; clearing her head, purging the errant emotions. Her eyes snapped open and pinned the League to their seats with the seriousness and pure intensity within the gaze.

"Suddenly, his hands always lingered a second too long on our limbs when we fought, or we noticed how Slade took delight in pinning us down; moreso than a gloating villain would, over a defeated hero. His methods of subduing us became… much more physical; often he tried to ensnare us, in chokeholds and such. It was like fighting a damn octopus sometimes… but, we thought… he never touched us anywhere inappropriate, so perhaps this was… normal? In anycase, it became our normal. Our reality."

She was visibly becoming distressed. "He was everywhere. Always. No matter where we were, while costumed, Deathstroke stood in the periphery of your vision. We often joked about it… generally because it was laugh, or give in to the terror that coursed through your veins at the mere thought of what was happening. He followed, watched, but never interacted… not then. It was just his sick little way of letting us know he was there…" she pauses, thoughtful, "Or perhaps not. I don't think even Slade fully understood what he was doing, why he was chasing us… why he-… the way he just-… I-… I can't do this right now."

Haltingly, a pale hand shakily ascended to her forehead, as her eyes shut tight against the realities of the world, and Troia allowed herself to be comforted; burying her face into the warmth of Red Arrow's firm shoulder. His presence providing surety that she was safe; and surrounded by her friends and family, from whom she could draw strength, as the flood of memories threatened to spill out from behind cracking mental walls that had been forged, and reinforced, many years previously.

Her strong hands gripped tight to the red fabric, worrying over the small details, and grounding the Amazonian. Helping Donna to calm herself, through familiar rituals such as this; something she had done before, in times gone by. Panic always overridden by the close comfort of a Titan companion, their arms enshrining her in safety, as her hands plucked at their costume.

It was a less prevalent need nowadays. Though, if a sudden resurgence of nightmares overtook her, she could always call for one of the Titans present, and, failing that… Starfire, Raven, Cyborg and... yes, even Beast Boy, could be counted on to offer unquestioning support. Not even Gar would dare to make a quip about the situation; it was when he aw at his most serious, actually. Also, they had found that petting a green kitten also provided relief.

The others did not exactly know the extent of what had happened, only what they had observed from their time as Titans… and they did not ask. Though, if Donna had to guess, perhaps Starfire understood more than she ever said; for Tamaranians learned a great many things when they pressed their lips to another's, and mastery of several human languages cannot be all she gleaned from Nightwing on their first meeting. Nor from Troia.

Perhaps she was waiting for them to speak to her of it of their own free will; in the way they had let her bide her time before the warrior of X'hal had felt safe enough to speak of what the Gordanians had done to her.

Perhaps… Donna would take her up on that unspoken offer, one day soon.

~)0(~

Diana of Themyscira only remained in her allotted League seat out of the heart-rending fear of being faced with the same rejection that Green Lantern had endured, when trying to comfort his own protegee earlier. Her eyes roved over her sister and the other Titans; taking in the little details.

To her, the uncharacteristic way Donna had shut out the world by hiding in a teammate's shoulder was of great concern; it raised her blood, and the hair on her nape. Like the shrill conch-call to arms, in the middle of night. And yet, as she observed, it became apparent that this was not entirely unexpected or new, to the other young heroes before her.

None, not even Red Arrow, appeared overly concerned beyond generalised sympathy, at Troia's actions; suggesting this was not a new situation. The way Roy carefully aligned his hands to provide comfort, that could be shucked off at the slightest sign of hesitation; how he stoically allowed her to fidget with his costume, without comment, as her breathing hitched and calmed like a churning sea. How the others would periodically flicker their eyes over the pair, as if fully aware of how she was doing without asking, and instead remaining silent.

This had happened before. Many times.

Possibly not even just to Troia, it seemed.

The room strained with the thick, pulsating press of confused and oddly-parental emotions. Everyone seemed a kaleidoscope of different feelings; from fear to fury, calm to curious, and all the more senior heroes could feel a tenuous sensation of worry building in their chests.

"Look, we never planned to tell you." Red Arrow broke the silence. "Not actually sure why Kid Mouth over there had to go and spill the proverbial beans all over the place, but since we're airing out our dirty little secret, you might as well hear all of it before you decide…"

He cut off suddenly, frowned, and changed tactics. "Ignore what I said, alright? Basically, a lot of things happened even before it all went down, as you could say. Started with the kidnapping, then went straight to hell from there, because let's be honest… Slade? He's one sick motherfu-rrrkmph?"

Flash's red-clad hand was casually forestalling any further 'character defamation'. It would almost be comical, unless the onlooker understood that the action was done for Roy's benefit, rather than to just censor him. The Titans knew from experience that Red Arrow would work himself into a state, from angry words and memories alone, if no one interjected right at the offset and redirected the conversation.

Wally tried to play it off as some sort of joke, to spare Roy's pride.

"What he means to say, in a rather roundabout, mature-audiences-only way, is that Deathstroke kind of has a really weird preoccupation with us. Like Donna said, it started when we were ten, with the increased touching and abducting schtick… and honestly, how many times that year alone did you guys have to come and get us back from some half-assed kidnapping caper orchestrated by Slade?"

Flash was in full speedster motormouth mode, making it a little hard to follow him, but the older heroes persisted patiently. "Weird thing was, though, that he never actually really hurt us beyond the obvious 'knock 'em out and rough 'em up a bit to show dominance' nonsense villains persist with. Oh yeah, and that whole, threaten-the-mentor-with-potential-violence-to-the-sidekick ploy he kept whipping out, like a bad one-liner at a snobby party. Like, it was just in such bad taste to pull that every single freaking time one of you appeared. If there was like a Yelp for Villain Kidnappings, I would crucify the guy…"

Snapping back to reality, Flash blinked, then shrugged. "But what are you gonna do? After a while you kind of got used to the whole 'being captured' thing. It wasn't fun, because hey, we got tied up more than probably the vast majority of professional BDSM actors, but on the other hand, it wasn't just the worst. Except, of course, when he got a little too weird for us; it was like the guy had never even heard of personal space!"

"I mean, it wasn't blatant or anything… but then it was. Where he used to grab our faces and make us look him dead in the eye while he monologued and mono-ogled… it turned into this sort of long caress thing, that made you feel all wrong; kind of like you wanted to powersand the flesh off of wherever he touched you. And no, that wasn't being dramatic, the guy's creepy as hell. Not to mention when he started…" Wally's body shuddered, and he cringed inwardly; involuntarily releasing Roy's mouth at the same time. "...like, stroking us? One minute he'd have your arm in his hand, and you're all ready to get tossed across the room… the next, boom, there's this brief stroke of the palm on your arm, your leg, your side. Anywhere he could reach, really."

"What he said." Affirms Roy. "And me'n'Motormouth didn't even have it that bad, which is saying something! Slade had a… a thing, for those two though."

His head jerks down, once; then back at their leader.

"Something about black hair and blue eyes just does it for the guy, apparently. We kinda discovered that a little too late, though… always thought the creepy fucker had a fixation on Garth, after the whole pool incident." At that, Roy clamped his mouth shut, like he'd said too much. The archer turning his face away from the others, and tugging Troia in a little closer; waiting to see if it was alright or not, before settling his hand on her shoulder.

He slips off his mask, one-handed, and when he looks back to the League members, the pain in his eyes is very real. Overshadowed, perhaps, by anger and disgust; but nonetheless, it is clear to the mentors that whatever they had suffered… still lingered in the Titans. Even if only in their minds, or their darkest dreams.

"What else can you say about it?" he shrugs, clenching the mask so tightly his knuckles were white. "Deathstroke was fascinated by us, and things went wrong. We thought we could handle them. We thought-…"

He didn't finish. No one really expected him to.

~)0(~

This time, Diana could remain a bystander no longer, and she rose from the table; overwhelmed with the need to provide some support, aid, protection. Anything, to her little sister, whom she loved dearly; and her friends, who were clearly suffering.

Eventually approaching the pair of intertwined Titans tentatively; ready to back off if given the indication. Although it was that very rejection that she feared the most.

"Donna," she said softly to make the other Amazon aware of her presence. "Please, tell me how it is I may help you best. Please…"

Perhaps it was the desperation in her tone, as she was at a complete and utter loss of what to do under the circumstances, but Donna peered out at her. Diana nearly laughed with joy, and instinctively opened her arms wide, a warm and welcoming gesture that Donna had known all her life to mean safety, sanctuary, sister.

Wonder Woman was relieved beyond what any mere words could express as her little sister disengaged her Titan companion and practically fell into her embrace. Eyes flashing up guiltily at the soft gasp of loss Red Arrow let out, as cool recycled air took the place where once Troia had clung; receiving and providing comfort simultaneously.

Instead of using her superior strength to force his hand, Diana instead gestured to catch his attention as he wallowed in the loss of such vital contact, and made an offering without words; an arm flung out wide enough to encompass another body. Allowing him to choose to step forwards or back, of his own volition.

Hesitantly, Roy moved towards Wonder Woman, and Diana made certain to provide the younger man with all the reassuring contact her strong-armed embrace could allow; knowing full-well that Green Arrow was not, exactly, the hugging type and would not mind her actions under the circumstances. She didn't comment on the way they aligned perfectly against her, sharing the space between her arms amicably and eerily equally; nor did would Diana breathe a word of the way he held just as tightly to her as Donna did.

Whoever had made them this fragile… would pay, greatly. The Amazonian vowed silently.

~)0(~

"This isn't going to turn into an awkward chick-flick moment, is it?" Wally joked, feebly, and nudged the nearby Tempest. Definitely not expressing his desire for that same level of reassuring affection through inappropriate humour.

Everyone in the small room, bar the two Gothamites, produced some degree of audible appreciation for the bad joke; small titters to stuttered chuckles helping to breathe some life back into the smotheringly tense atmosphere of the room. However, it was not as effective as one might have hoped, though.

Emanating from the far side of the table, in a chair that displayed a bat-symbol logo impressed upon the back, a dark aura seemed to be manifesting. It was impossible to mistake who it belonged to, especially when that low, grinding voice commanded, "Continue."

A significant shrug passes from speedster to Atlantean mage; in what could only be referred to as a nonverbal 'might as well get it over with'.

"As we grew older, we began to notice that the little things we had previously noted were increasing. You would think that someone of his… persuasion… would be less inclined to view us favourably, the more we matured; more likely to move on, grow tired and pursue younger, more suitable playmates that met his… tastes. Except, that he did not. It was puzzling, but it seemed that Deathstroke's fixation on us grew far stronger as time wore on; his presence felt far more than ever before." Tempest's expression twitches for a second, but he smoothly continued.

"If he had been everywhere before, you could almost say he had stitched himself to our very shadows now; for you would never see him coming, only know that he was watching you. To say we were made a little bit paranoid by these circumstance would be to gravely underestimate the situation at hand; every gust of unexpected air on our neck, every rustle in the bushes, every movement in the darkness… made us jump, scream or immediately seek another person. It was… rather pathetic, now that I say it aloud." The Atlantean grimaced, disquieted.

"Nay," Aquaman interjected. "Child or Warrior, all react to stressful situations in their own ways. Seeking safety in numbers is instinct, and any would have reacted thusly."

Garth nodded in acknowledgement of the statement. "Thank you for your words, I understand and accept the knowledge you have imparted. Our fear, our hypervigilance had become a part of us; how we functioned, how we coped; it was impossible to recall a time when we did not think to check every room, door and window twice before sleeping. And yet, even then, we could only sleep somewhat peacefully, due to the presence of our very own nocturnal team member."

Tempest smiles at Nightwing, who returned the expression with a slight huff of amusement.

Batman chose that momentary pause of the tale to interject. "Given the information you described, particularly in relation to the fact that Slade remained focused on the Teen Titans as you grew older, it would be prudent to reassess the dynamics at play. What you had, rightly, assumed him to be at the time, is no longer on the table; predators of that nature often have highly selective, preferential types and age-ranges that they rarely deviate from. You would have been too old for his tastes, possibly within a year or two; if not after age thirteen, had he held to commonly-established patterns, noted by the majority of psychological studies on the phenomena."

"And yet, you did not 'out-grow' his needs, his fixation on you. Which leads to the question of what to classify him as, under the circumstances; as he appears to have the hallmarks of an obsessive, who often end up killing their target to ensure no one else can have them. Necessitating a rapid response before the cycle completes; and yet, you are all still here. Thankfully. But," Batman paused, eyes narrowing, "this either means the assumption is incorrect, we do not have all the data, or his obsession has been slowly mollified over the years."

The Titans remained silent, some clearly confused, others more concerned than before.

"You are not to blame, mollification of an obsessive type is neither deliberate or even conscious, in many cases. There is no 'leading them on' justification in this scenario. They take little signs, such as seeing you smile at something, brushing against you in a crowd, or picking up a discarded pen, to mean you are interested. With that in mind, the burning question is… what have you not told us about?"

Cold. Efficient. To the Point.

In a word: Batman.

~)0(~

Damnit.

"Y-yeah, shit. We noticed things going missing over the years, just thought they were gone for good. Favourite shirts, comics, school books… and sometimes the trashcans would get toppled overnight, and weird stuff would go missing. Definitely not racoons, or Beast Boy, then." Wally says, feeling cold and clammy at the realisation that Slade had had ahold of their stuff all this time.

"Things really got weird about the same time we turned fifteen or so; like we said before, he was getting bolder, as if the fact we were growing up was exciting him, er, in that way. Deathstroke started to just flat-out snatch us away to darkened corners during missions or battles that didn't even involve him; press himself too close, always just way too close, and whisper a whole lotta things that I'm pretty sure are illegal in most states… into our ears. You could… you could tell he was excited by it, hard not to, but we never felt the same way. I think he was going for 'suggestive', but all we got from his touch was a mind full of panic and a never-ending replay of the Kill Bill siren." Wally said, bouncing from foot to foot, like he had to keep moving while his mouth did.

"It wasn't all bad, I suppose. Not everything he said was downright pornographic, so that's a plus; but then, having some old murderer-for-hire whispering that you're beautiful to him, while rubbing his hands over you, isn't that great either. Arms, sides, necks, face. If he could reach it, he'd touch it. Never technically touched anywhere he really shouldn't though, at the beginning; like he was waiting for one of us to ask for it, or something." Flash shrugged.

"I don't know how his mind works. It's cuckootown in there for sure. He did it to all of us, though; not like he singled out me or anything, we all had to deal with the guy and his groping gloves on more than one occasion. The strangest thing was that he always knew exactly where to hold our costumes to keep us still, or at the very least, unable to free ourselves; and if that wasn't the creepiest fucking thing ever, I have no idea what is." cringed Wally, looking disgusted. "And he ambushed us in really unusual places, too…"

As was the pattern, when a Titan fell into deep thought or silence, another picked up the tale; as if they could read one another and simply knew where to take up the narrative. It was most likely quite true.

"There was an occasion, at the time we speak of, wherein it became clear that his intentions were growing more… desperate." Garth began, haltingly. "At the time, it was a day not unlike any other… nothing distinguished it from the next, nor its predecessor; I cannot say for certain why it was chosen, if he placed any thought into it at all and not merely acted on an unspoken instinct. As it was, I had taken the chance to have an afternoon swim within the Tower's salt-water pool; as you may recall, my lungs were not strong enough to spend a full day completely out of an oceanic environment, just yet. The area had finished completion only recently, specifically for my use, and it was the only place I truly felt at ease… and perhaps, that was where my downfall lay."

"We were supposed to go about the Tower together, in pairs or as a trio; to be safe. I had forgotten, in my panic, as my skin became itchy and dry; merely dashing off to the pool without a second thought. And indeed, as I slipped out of the water refreshed and ready to return to the others, something snatched me about the throat, hauling me from the pool with a delighted cry and a quip about fishing that I have neither forgotten, nor forgiven." Tempest added darkly.

"Deathstroke stood there, grinning up at where his hand held me captive, beaming at his… ugh, 'catch of the day'. All I remember thinking was that my communicator was sitting atop the pile of my hastily-discarded day-clothes, far from reach across the length of the pool; and no one knew where I was at that very moment, so there would be no chance of rescue." The Atlantean squirmed, slightly, as if recalling the moment too vividly to speak.

"The depraved man just kept staring at me, in such an obscene way it still… makes me wish I could entice him into the oceanic depths, and watch him drown, to know for certain he will plague us no longer. To say nothing of the odd caresses he subjected us to, or… or the insinuation he made regarding an inflatable turtle raft that took me many years to fully understand the meaning of, and even now it brings me great horror to recollect what he stated so brazenly." Garth recalled, cheeks slightly flushed. "He pressed far too close, and no matter how hard I arched my body from his, he always seemed to win; possibly because thinking grew more difficult with every second he held fast to my throat."

"I daren't extrapolate on the destination of the hand slipping underneath the board shorts I had been gifted by the other Titans, nor on how sick the hot huff of his breath on my throat made me feel; suffice to say that I did not enjoy the moment whatsoever. Though I could not break free, I still fought back as best I could...however, it seemed that only the swift intervention of a concussive arrow to the assassin's face, was the correct manner to remove the man from person." Tempest suddenly grinned, coldly.

Roy actively growled, stalking away from the comforts of Themyscira, momentarily.

"You better believe it! Imagine walking in on something like that, I tell you it was all instinct to beat the tar outta the guy. Like, one minute I'm trying to find bathtub-boy for dinner because the other Titans are tearing the Tower apart to make sure he's okay… and the next, I'm thinking of a hundred-and-one ways I could get away with killing the creepy old bastard for daring to mess with Garth. That fucker, always creeping about and ready to pounce if given a chance!"

"So I blast him out of range of fishboy here, right? And while I'm glad he's free, he isn't ready to kick-ass, or haul it, just yet, so I had to play decoy till he was ready… and also, I was pretty pissed off at Slade. Let's be real, like someone as angry as I was-... am, is going to pass up a bonafide chance for revenge and all. Yeah, I went to go break a few bones and maybe roll the guy into the pool to watch him drown for a laugh, but just as I get to him… the world flips."

The archer flails his arms emphatically as he states, "I'm yelling, he's yelling, I think Garth was yelling too probably." Roy shrugs, uncertain, but definitely remembering the situation as chaotic.

"So, turns out, he grabbed my ankle and flipped me in all of a split-second; and I'm flat on the concrete, which makes me the perfect target for the creeper. I was already reaching for my taser arrow, but Slade could tell my next move thanks to that bullshit precognition thing of his and slices through my quiver strap, tossing the whole thing into the pool! Arrows and all! It took ages to clean out afterwards too, 'cause the density of the salt water detonated fog arrow or two, and it ended up looking like some giant squid had ink-blasted all over the place!" He laughs, then stops abruptly.

"Anyway, he's too close for comfort, practically straddling my waist at this point, and I'm three seconds from panic because he's never been this determined, or successful, before. And given our positions? Slade could do anything." Roy's fists clench tightly, squaring his jaw.

"Trying to punch him just gave the weirdo the chance to pin my arms up over my head, which y'know, didn't exactly help me retain a cool head; as you can imagine. Being pinned down by some old, pay-per-stab, assassin guy…? Setting off every alarm bell I got in this thick skull. Not much I could do about it, though; he may be a whacko, but Slade's good at what he does. Knows how to use his weight to restrain an opponent in a fight… or, yeah, also putting that knowledge to bad use when it comes to forcing teenage heroes into doing whatever he wants."

Red Arrow wasn't looking at anyone in particular when he said this, expression curling into a disgusted sneer. Ignoring the horrified expression of his mentor, and pretending the whole thing was just some interesting tale he'd heard down at the pub; dissociating from the event.

"With my hands outta the way, two pinned to his restraining one, it left his other hand free to run amok all over me; and that's not a sensation you ever want first-hand knowledge of, I tell you. Might as well have been buck-naked, given the expression Deathstroke was leering down at me with… still weirds me out to think about it." The marksman twitched, fingers absently tapping against his leg as a physical outlet for the swirling maelstrom of memories in his mind.

"At this point, he's also pressing down enough for me to realise just how much he's fucking loving this whole scene, and the casual observer probably thought this whole scene looked like the opening to a dirty movie or something. Not that we had a stash of them in the Tower anywhere, or anything… not that we will admit to, anyway."

"But then, he was so preoccupied, the guy didn't even realise we weren't alone anymore. I mean, not counting Garth, who was kind of half-choked to death and not really ready to throwdown, of course. Well, anyway… one second Deathstroke was living up to the second half of his codename, and the next, Wally's blazed into the room with the fury of a thousand pissed off geese, and hurled the bastard off. Right across the room and sploosh, nailed him into dead center of the pool. Pretty sure certain people made a terrible quip like, 'H-2-No means NO!' or something, I wasn't really paying attention; mostly just relieved to be free again, and a little shocked as well. I mean… this was the first time he'd been so… bold. To nearly… do something like that, with the full intention to just keep going unless he was stopped."

Wally interjected, indignant, "Hey, you forgot the other one-liner I tossed at the one-eyed whackjob!" Then settled slightly. "Yeah, Slade's boldness that day really freaked me out too, it was like we'd gone past the point of no return or something. When Speedy didn't return with Aqualad, I offered to go try and find the pair… but I never expected to run into a chaotic scene like that; actually I kinda thought they'd gotten sidetracked on the way, by the television, or maybe they'd paused to plot a prank in the rec room. But nope, I had to double-back past the pool and stare for a millisecond before my brain could process the situation and urge me to get in there, and do something!"

"The only thing I could think of right away was just to speed over and use the resulting kinetic energy to hurl Deathstroke as far from the others as possible, before he could react, or fathom what was going on and prepare a counter-attack. Pretty sure I said something like, 'Looks like you need a long, cold shower alone there, buddy!' and the, er, other line Roy mentioned. And yes, they were bad, but it was spur of the moment, mouth-running-without-thought-involvement type stuff. It could have been worse, though." Wally grinned, sheepishly. A lopsided grin forming on the speedster's face, like a child who knew they'd made a really lame pun, but was proud of it all the same.

His smile fell away, like a shadow obscured by oncoming nightfall, as a new, yet familiar, voice entered the conversation.

"I'm sorry, it was my fault he got into the Tower. If I had double-checked the alarm system before lunch, it would have been apparent that there was an electromagnetic feedback loop being created around the back entrance to the pool room; signifying an unwanted guest. If nothing else, I should have been there to stop him." Silent until now, the clear voice of Bludhaven's vigilante protector filled the room, and drew all attention to his motionless person, though he did not seem to look towards any one person present.

Wally appeared to have been shocked into stillness for but a second; before suddenly appearing beside the other man's shoulder, and pressing close. Not quite proper contact, but enough to show solidarity.

"Don't do that, 'wing." He breathed, a slight whine of distress to his placatory tone. "You had to sleep sometime, and we all agreed that if you watched over us at night, then we wouldn't bother you during the few hours you could be tricked into catching during the day. I mean, you spent all those looooong, boooooooring, me-less hours guarding us as we slept, and then like spent half the day keeping us from blowing the Tower up with crazy shit, plus all the extra missions the team kept getting sent on…" the Speedster exhaled noisily. "Whew, when I say it like that, we really should have pitched in more… but anyway, don't sweat it, short-pants, Me'n'Roy had it sorted."

Nightwing clearly frowned back at the other. "That's true, to an extent, Motormouth… but the fact remains that it was my error that allowed Deathstroke access to you that day. If I had just checked the security grid for tampering a second time, his attempt to break-in would have been noted. It is a statement of fact, not a request for sympathy, Wally. And if I had noticed, then perhaps you would not have to live with those memories… and it may have cautioned him against… future attempts."

Attempting to be subtle about it and failing, the Justice League tried not to show any overtly outward signs of just how close to the edge of their seats they truly were. Clearly undecided, as a whole, whether they actually wished to know the extent to which this Deathstroke had caused anguish to the child heroes that most present had had a hand in raising, guiding, teaching and protecting. However, like Catwoman in the presence of one of Riddler's Mystery Boxes, curiosity got the better of each and every one of the more experienced superheroes present.

"Nightwing is correct, Flash." Batman interjected, voice carrying across to the younger men through the otherwise silent room of observers. "Had he instigated a more rigorous schedule for randomised checks of the Tower systems, it is highly probable that any minor grid flaw or indeed, incursion, would have been detected far sooner. Any minor error easily notable. However, the main question here is whether Deathstroke realised there was a flaw within the security grids or search patterns, and indeed, whether he took explicit advantage of it… or the entire situation was a fluke. It would explain the degree to which he was monitoring you all."

Wally opened his mouth to send a verbal volley back in defence of his best friend, but a small shake of the head from Nightwing silenced the protest before it began. His former mentor had a point, and they both knew it; as easily as the younger vigilante understood that the Dark Knight's statement was equally as factual, and not in any way a condemnation.

Though others did not exactly understand this basic fact of communication between batclan members, and were, naturally, inclined to interject in support of the Titan's leader. Which is why Superman nudged Batman in the ribs, looking to his counterpart in surprise as he stated, "Bruce, that's really not fair, and you know it."

Normally, if someone said anything even slightly derogatory towards Nightwing, Robin, Oracle, Batgirl, Huntress, Spoiler or even Catwoman, they'd usually be hanging by the ankle from the side of a tall building, until they either wet themselves or begged for forgiveness. Batman may deny it, but he was incredibly paternal when it came to the extended batclan family, and he would definitely make someone pay for slighting any member. Especially after… Jason.

Then again, his teaching methodologies could be considered exceptionally harsh and somewhat on the sadistic side of things; even if they paid significant dividends in creating a veritable army of competent vigilantes with well-honed leadership qualities, and sharp intellects.

Nightwing himself was an example of such circumstances. Successfully moving away from Batman and into Gotham's dark twin, Bludhaven; taking control of the streets and scum that lurked within the shadows. Cowing the criminal underbelly, as best one could.

The baleful glare that Clark receives, for his troubles, is enough to silence the Kryptonian without the other man having to say a single word.

~)0(~

Flash, not as oblivious as everyone naturally assumed him to be, immediately shattered the tension in the room by speaking again.

"Dude, we never blamed you for any of that, I mean… some of the rest of us could have stood to do a little more towards safeguarding our own butts, and all. I should have checked the system instead, or Donna, or Roy. Wasn't really fair to just leave everything up to you the whole time. In anycase, Slade got in, we kicked his ass and summarily dumped him out again. End of story. Well… you know what I mean." the speedster added sheepishly, rubbing a hand through the messy crop of crimson hair atop his head.

He addressed the League openly, eyes distant, and expression guarded. "That… wasn't the only time Slade got into the Tower; or at least, it was the last time he tried it using that particular method. He seemed to sneak in, under our radar, at the worst possible times; like he always knew what we were up to, where everyone was. Usually, it didn't take much of a combined effort to toss the man right back out again before anything… like we mentioned before, happened. But there were a few occasions… when you'd walk out of the shower to find him standing there, expression hungry and fingers twitching to touch your skin; or, be ambushed in the kitchen when you went in for a sneaky midnight snack because your metabolism's ridiculous, and he'd make a quip about you being on the menu. And ew, that's still nasty to me."

Wally wrinkled his nose, and shook his head at the thought. "Anyways, mostly we'd discover him in our rooms. Well, I say 'discover', but it was more like suddenly jolting awake to realise that Robin was already engaged in battle with the guy, fending him away from your previously-sleeping and way too vulnerable body, before he could do anything untowards. And we never thanked you properly for that, by the way, so… thanks for not letting a mercenary feel me up all those times."

He winked cheekily at the other hero, making light of the whole situation, in a way only those who had experienced it first-hand really could. From any other, it would feel… somewhat dismissive.

~)0(~

Aquaman took his turn to speak, by asking the questions haunting the minds of every mentor present. The Atlantean leaned forwards from his seat, staring directly into his protege's eyes as he spoke; trying to ascertain a level of truth. Countenance outright shocked and livid.

"So Deathstroke escalated from simple whispered threats and occasional inappropriate interactions, through to significant physical harm, unsolicited touches of a sexual nature, and attempted assault -including occasions wherein he watched you eat, sleep or shower? Can you be completely certain that there could be no additional situations wherein he might have been present and observing you, without your knowledge?"

An uneasy expression filtered over Tempest's visage, as he replied. "We are… uncertain. There is a strong possibility that his infatuation led him to pursue us in our civilian lives, as well, when our guards were most certainly down. This was… after Terra, most likely. After her betrayal." He let his anger simmer for a moment, before sighing.

"We trusted her, brought Tara among us and shared our secrets… including our secret identities; trying to make her feel at home, safe, one of the Titans. Except, she ran straight to Slade with this information, laughing in our faces as she helped him attempt to kill us all; for the fun of it. At the last moment, he talked her out of it and only brought enough harm to us, that we may be incapacitated, incapable of fighting Terra directly. As if he did not truly want us to die. But her legacy remains, and now Deathstroke knows us in every way."

"He knows who you are?" Superman asked, tone incredulous, and expression difficult to decipher. Clearly concerned for their welfare; and with good reason to doubt their safety.

Garth nodded back gravely. "Indeed. For many years now, he has kept an eye on us, in costume or out. He may even be aware of our location right now, if he is not busy on another assassination. But I am getting ahead of myself, too far along the story's timeline. Please continue, Wally, or even Roy… as I am unable to tell the next part as it is not mine to speak of."

Unexpectedly, it was Red Arrow who took up the tale where the Atlantean had left off. "I can understand why, buddy, don't worry about it. Anyways, you really don't wanna know what Slade went and did after that whole clusterfuck of a situation… but we'll tell you anyway. Because you'll find out somehow, otherwise, and it's easier to just, y'know, come out with it."

He huffs a tired sigh. "It was little things. Just small reminders that he was out there and always keeping an eye on us… sometimes it was a note on the fridge, a present of some kind on the kitchen bench, or one of the goddamn S-shaped shurikens he was so proud of lodged in a wall outside someone's room. You have no idea how annoying it is to have to repair something like that every few days, I tell you what!"

"Once… more recently, he… the bastard somehow got into my house. Knocked the regular babysitter out, shoved the poor girl into a cupboard, and spent hours playing tea-parties and dressup with Lian, my daughter." Roy's hand were shaking now, but he clenched them tightly, briefly looking back to see both Donna and Diana giving him twin expressions of concern. Broken apart from the earlier embrace, but still standing close together… and he seemed to want to retreat to them. Though he held fast to his position.

"He didn't do… anything untoward, of course; because he was making a point. He didn't want her… Slade wants us. But the thing is, he could have. And he knows that I know it… he knows we're all aware of the threat he poses to us, and the people about us, if we don't continue to play his little sick, twisted game."

"He knows where we lived, when we moved, where we call home now." Wally fills in the pause. "Like we said, he visited Titans Tower sort of frequently, often all night-time excursions; where we had to get our nocturnal attack-bird to shoo him away. I think I may have even made a 'Beware of Bird' sign, actually."

The unamused glare he was getting from Nightwing clearly promising painful death if the speedster brought up 'the sign' again. It had been a point of contention, between the pair. A sleep-deprived Robin, was not a happy one… and it seemed his sense of humour was the first to go; or at least, that's what Kid Flash had assumed as he'd artfully dodged birdarangs, upon presenting 'the sign' for the subject's approval all those years ago. Wally beamed. It was still funny.

"Uh, how about you forget you heard that last bit, or 'wing might actually toss me off a cliff. Anyway, it wasn't just stuff at the Tower, right? It was the stuff that messed with our minds, like hearing Lian tell us about the 'funny pirate man in the mask' she'd played princesses with. Or, on the twins' first birthday, the creep left two small white baby caskets on our front stoop, with a 'Condolences' card affixed to each one, and a wreath. Linda nearly had a heart-attack, and didn't stop crying for days; convinced he was going to kill one or both of our kids. He ruined that day for us, forever." Wally looked so grave, it aged him in that moment.

"Not to mention, as a random example of why this man needs to be tossed into Mount Doom..." he continued, failing to smile but obviously still trying. "He ah, he did one other unforgivable thing. Deathstroke decided it would be a fun little prank to break a certain someone's parents' tombstones in half, and wedge bright, cheerful red and yellow flowers in the crack. Naturally, shaped in the jagged 'S' of his symbol. S for Slade. Even without that flagrant calling card, we'd have known it was his doing… the man was the human version of finding a batarang in the toaster. Shocking, unexpected, a bad idea in general, and a symbol of his ability to throw a curveball, after all this time. Casually reminding us that… even now… the Titans belonged to him."

"And we don't really know what to do about it, anymore." Wally admitted, with a long sigh, as tension seeped out of his frame. Suddenly, he let out a bark of laughter, that rang harsh in the attentive air. "Hah! And that's only the shit he's doing to us now!"

~)0(~

"There were… other incidents." Troia admits, looking away from her sister. "But one in particular, where he grew too bold, haunts me most of all. We don't ever… talk about it, but I think it is what Wally is referring to, yes?"

The speedster nods, looking slightly abashed to have mentioned whatever this event was; even if it had been a spur-of-the-moment slip of the tongue.

"We… remember it, most vividly. Of course, he had the chance to trap and touch each of us, in different ways; as horrific as it sounds. But the others were never too far away to provide protection within moments of the assault beginning. Except, once." Donna folded her arms in a self-embrace, worrying at her bottom lip again. Though Wonder Woman made no gesture to touch her, or offer comfort, again. Sensing it would be unwelcome by the pensive young woman.

"I… do not wish to tell the tale. Nor do I believe Dick does, either. Perhaps, if they were willing, one of the others will. But it was the worst thing Slade ever managed to do, before we became too difficult to corner as individuals. Which is when, as we said, the mind-games began." She said, simply, pressing closer to the other Titans.

Trying her best not to notice how Diana's face contorted with a calculating rage at her words. The way the warrior woman, princess of her people, seemed to be threatening bloody, prolonged death to Slade, with every fibre of her being. Fire and fury in her eyes, her hands, her stance.

In a way, it made Troia feel… safe.  
And that was what she needed now, as a truth long-since hidden was once more unearthed.

~~~)0(~~~

* * *

To be continued.

* * *

This may not update for a little while, given how much effort it requires.

Casual reminder that 'Update this!' and 'Update (expletive/s)!' are not reviews, and in fact, are demotivational/detract desire to continue the story.


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